Put the Car in Drive
by Austennerdita2533
Summary: Overwhelmed with flipping the switch and causing damage, Caroline leaves Mystic Falls and finds herself feeling lost and alone. She calls Klaus. What happens? What does she say?
1. Put the Car in Drive

**Author's Note : This piece sprouted from a prompt offered for Klaroline Wednesday on Tumblr. I'd always wondered what kind of advice/words of wisdom Klaus would offer after learning not only that Liz died, but that Caroline turned off her humanity. I hope you like it.**

* * *

"You have exactly two minutes to tell me about being the bad guy before I hang up," she muttered, "Go."

She could feel his smirk through the phone.

"Caroline," Klaus drawled in his thick British accent, "how lovely to hear from you."

After their last scandalous (passionate) encounter, Caroline had sworn to herself that she'd de-Klaus her life—an Original Hybrid detox, if you will—and remove both him, and her feelings for him, from her life forever. When he'd promised never to return; she'd promised (silently) never to talk to him, never to think of him again. Unfortunately for her, she found this forever vow was hard (impossible) to preserve…at least where he was concerned.

And as a result, here she was: Parked in the middle of Nowhere Tennessee, her head pressed against the steering wheel. A bag of open Doritos resting in her lap. On the phone…with Klaus Mikaelson.

Caroline hated it! She despised herself for her weakness, for her Achilles heel. But Klaus? Oh…Klaus loved every minute of it. No—wait—that didn't sound right. He didn't just love it…he relished in it. _Smug bastard._

"Is this interest personal or academic?"

Eyes closed, Caroline sighed. "I didn't know who else to call..."

Hearing her dejected tone, that lackluster inflection, Klaus dropped his wry pretense. His voice low and gentle, he replied, "You called the right person, love."

"Now," he continued, his attitude a little probing, "What do you want to know?"

Caroline jolted back in the driver's seat, allowing her head to rest comfortably against the headrest. Muting the radio, which seemed to be blaring music from Sad FM, she threw her arms over her head and spoke, unloading words in an agitated, need-to-vent manner.

"Here's the thing…My mom's dead. I don't know if you know that or not, but my mom died. From cancer. Not from a supernatural curse, a rogue vampire, or a werewolf bite, but from cancer. Freaking _brain_ cancer. Isn't that ridiculous? To die of something so human—in _Mystic Falls_?"

Caroline hiccupped here, either to prevent herself from laughing or crying. She wasn't sure which one.

"Anyways, I couldn't deal with it. I just couldn't. I couldn't fucking breathe, Klaus. I couldn't fucking _breathe_!" She paused, licking her lips. "So, I shut it off. I shut off my humanity…and I gave into my darkness. The one temptation I swore to myself, and to you, that held no charms for me." She scoffed, obviously disgusted with herself. "I gave in!"

"And…?" Klaus asked with hesitation.

"It was amazing! It was awful!" Caroline checked herself. "I—I was awful," she corrected. "Though I still controlled the bloodlust, I was a heartless and vindictive bitch. I terrorized my friends, my town, and perfect strangers who offended me for literally _no_ reason."

Klaus chuckled softly. Though he said nothing, it was obvious he took some odd delight in hearing her tale. And something else, too. What was it? Satisfaction? Pleasure? Pride? That's it—that's what it was. A part of him was proud.

Without interruption, Caroline continued.

"I mean, not only did I almost revert Stefan back to his Ripper days—and we all know how many years he takes to recover from one of those episodes—but I played Caroline trivia with my ex-boyfriends and snapped some guy's neck because he refused to buy me a tequila shot. I blood-binged—which ruined my necklace; I traumatized innocent studiers; and I killed 6 people to prevent boredom on a Friday night. I _suck_!"

At this, Caroline smacked her hands over her eyes and let out an exasperated huff. Rubbing at her temples, she begged for the guilt to disappear. To fade. To lessen. Anything to appease that relentless fire that scalded her veins with remorse, with regret. She'd do anything to stop the torment!

She heard him shut a door before plopping down on something soft—a bed or a chair of some sort—probably cradling his phone into his neck.

"Hold on," Klaus interjected, "What on earth is Caroline trivia?"

"Are you kidding me?" Caroline's eyes popped open and she shouted at Klaus' name on the call screen in her car. "I unload all of that crap on you and _that's_ the one thing you want to know?"

"Yes?"

Caroline could almost see him fixing her with that infamous puppy dog stare, his blue eyes twinkling with flirtatious mischief. He'd jut out his lower lip for extra emphasis, too, just to irk her.

"I'm simply curious…" he crooned.

She scoffed. But secretly, she was amused. A small smile crept across her lips as she readied herself to answer him. Though it was a weak one and it felt a little foreign on her face, Caroline savored the pleasantness of smiling again after so many weeks of misery. And he'd been the one to instigate it. _Interesting_.

"Matt and Tyler stumbled across me at a bar where I was engaging in some murderous activities. They disapproved, of course, and wanted to go. But I decided that only the winner of my game could leave." She shivered in remembrance, and then nestled her legs into her chest to finish her explanation. "And since they both dated me, Caroline-themed questions seemed like the most fun. Whoever won, would live; whoever lost, would die."

As she said this, she opened her bag of Doritos and grabbed a handful.

"That's rather creative," Klaus replied, his interest piqued, "Who won?"

"Neither one."

Silence.

Shocked? Startled? Surprised? Whatever he was, Klaus masked it well. He delivered his question with a practiced monotone. "You killed them both?"

Caroline coughed, almost choking on her junk food.

"What? No— _no_!" she exclaimed. "Damon ushered them outside before I—before I could—no. No, I didn't kill them."

She shook her head and laughed without amusement. "Could you imagine? Could you imagine if I had been responsible for killing one of my friends, or worse, one of the ex-loves of my life? I just—" she crumpled her hands into fists "—there'd be no return to humanity after that. Not for me."

Klaus considered her words for a moment with a "hmm" humming on his lips.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because! I'd never forgive myself; I'd never recover."

Caroline wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and leaned forward into the speaker, almost like she was about to tell a secret. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.

"The guilt and shame would bury me. I'd never survive."

"You would," Klaus challenged. His tone was uncompromising and unyielding, like he spoke an absolute truth. "You're strong, Caroline. And the strong are resilient, sometimes stubborn, and often tenacious to the point of obsession. I would know," he said with self-directed mockery, "The strong always find a way to survive…you would, too."

"I'm barely surviving now!" she countered, half-hysterical.

"I mean, listen to me!" Tears trickled down her pale cheeks, smearing her brown mascara. "I'm locked in my car, alone, at a crummy Tennessee gas station vampire-shaming myself to a rage-a-holic hybrid who's probably killed more people than I've ever met!"

"True, I have," he admitted nonchalantly, "Most of them were collateral damage. Or perhaps boredom? It's hard to remember…"

Caroline imagined Klaus lying there—locked away in some swanky mansion in NOLA—with his head resting against his fancy pillows and his mind wandering to his burgeoning list of victims, innocent and guilty alike. How many were there? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? She shuddered at the thought. Exhausted, Caroline allowed her forehead to collapse against her hands on the steering wheel. Again.

"I'm so lost, Klaus," she confessed, exhaling in surrender. "Can't you just be a pal and tell me your goddamn secret already? I'm tired."

Klaus laughed heartily at this. It sounded warm and relaxed, like he had received a reprieve and could take a moment to revel in something fun, not dire. In this moment, it was clear that Caroline entertained him. He sounded almost…happy?

In the meantime, she was drowning. _Typical_.

After taking a minute, Klaus cleared his throat. "I am an almanac of secrets, sweetheart," he said, "Which one would you like to pick apart?"

"Just tell me how you do it. How you swallow your regrets and prevent them from consuming you. Don't lie to me—I know you have them," Caroline mumbled from the steering wheel.

She could hear him scratch the stubble on his chin in thought.

"You presume to know me well," Klaus responded.

Not lifting her head or opening her eyes, she added, "You do vile, despicable things, Klaus, but they bother you. They always have; they always will."

She heard the lid of a decanter, then the sound of liquid—probably Bourbon—clinking against ice cubes as it emptied into a glass. Klaus needed a drink. And from the sounds of it, a strong one. Taking a sip, Klaus let out a small groan before he answered.

"Time helps. Years, decades, centuries…they help to fade the atrocities you've committed. It helps you to overlook them, so to speak," Klaus began. "You never forget, but you learn to ignore. And eventually, with time and practice, you'll learn to master the skill of evasion just like I have."

Devoid of callousness or calculation, his words expressed an openness, a truthfulness, that struck Caroline in the heart. Klaus had granted her access into his psyche—willingly and without restraint. He wanted her to know him, to understand him. It was like she'd accidentally cracked open a window and his soul blew in to arrest her, to awaken her heart with its warm breeze. And that touched her. She hated to admit it, but it did. It genuinely touched her.

"What do I do until then? You know, until eternity passes and I'm a billion like you?" she asked.

"Distract yourself."

"How?"

Caroline heard Klaus take another large swig from his drink. After he finished, she heard him clunk it down on the counter and unplug the decanter for a refill.

"Well, for starters…drive," he said, "Put the keys in the ignition, start up your car, and drive away from that dilapidated little town you're hiding in, and just go."

"I can't go back to Mystic Falls, Klaus."

"So don't." His voice was calm, soft. "Just drive."

Abruptly and with no goodbye, the call ended. Like a new moon, he disappeared into the black March night. Klaus spoke his wisdom, and then was gone.

Rolling her forehead across her hands, Caroline peered at the call screen with one eye and stared, his name still plastered there in blinking white. They'd spent more than fifteen minutes on the phone. Much longer than she'd expected...or intended.

After releasing a long sigh, she sat back in her seat and started the ignition. As she maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto the interstate, she extracted a map from the glove compartment. Although Caroline still felt lost, she at least knew her next destination. The map laid flat on the passenger seat next to her, starred and circled with the name of one city: New Orleans.

And so, like Klaus suggested, she just drove.


	2. Put the Car in Park

**Author's Note : I'd only intended for this to be a one-shot, but some of my readers suggested that I continue it (i.e. write a sequel). The favorites/reviews/follows here and on Tumblr have been wonderful and I came up with an idea of how to make this a two-shot while taking a break from my longer Klaroline fic. Anyways, thank you all for your interest and comments. Enjoy! :)**

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The same damn car had been making the same blasted noise outside his window for the past fifteen minutes. _Honk, honk! Honk, HONK_! The beeping, persistent and obstinate, roused him from a particularly delectable dream where he basked in the submission of his enemies, dehydrating their veins until they withered like prunes at his feet and mounting their disloyal heads on the wall of victory. Free from opposition. Free from antagonism. Klaus the King. Bow down, peasants. Bow down.

The only thing missing…

 _Honk, honk!_

Klaus groaned. With a pillow pressed over his ears, he rolled over to check the clock. It was 4 AM. What respectable person honked like a raving, impatient lunatic while people were trying to sleep?

 _Honk, honk, honk!_ A menacing growl escaped his chest. Someone who wanted to die, that's who.

Jumping out of bed, Klaus pulled on a pair of jeans, a green shirt, and brown shoes before he leapt from his balcony onto the street below. He hit the cobblestone pavement with the agility of a wolf. Crouched. Weight on his toes. Without a sound.

Eyes closed, he breathed in an intoxicating vanilla scent. Lovely. Just around the next corner. _Time for a snack_.

Klaus hesitated at the edge of the building, prowling in the obscurity of the alleyway. A sly smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. The chase. This was the part he liked best.

Peering around the bend, he snuck a peek at his unsuspecting prey. Legs. That's all he saw—long legs. They bent into the backseat of a silver Prius, a baby blue dress chafing the exposed skin of her thighs, the chill of the morning erecting goosebumps on her pale, silky flesh. He licked his lips, a voracious hunger thumping through him—an encouraging melody—as he salivated in anticipation of the taste of his victim's sweet, honey blood. Against his lips. On his tongue. Down his throat.

Her left hand, delicate yet determined, pressed against the leather of the steering wheel in a relentless rhythm. Her palm tap, tap, tapped. It reminded him of a heartbeat.

 _Delicious._

Dropping his fangs, Klaus retreated from the shadows. He pounced like a jungle cat onto the hood of her car. The car jostled under the force of his weight and halted the girl's backseat rifling. Terror filled her lungs and robbed her voice of words. She screamed.

Klaus chuckled. Delighted. _Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?_

The girl stepped backwards as her left foot searched for the sturdy support of the road. The movement seemed awkward, but not hurried. Not frightened. She perceived no danger. No threat. Not yet.

He delayed—patient for the moment her shoulders exited the door to reveal a head of loose waves, a glowing blonde halo of hair, just like…but it wasn't.

Klaus slithered behind her like a snake. In seconds, with her body pressed flush against his chest, one hand gripping her by the waist, the other brushing hair from her neck with gentle caresses, he surrendered to the fragrant potency of her blood. He lowered his quivering mouth, his lips puckered and prepared for impact.

 _He'll huff and he'll puff and he'll…_

Hands clamped around his wrist, the one that draped around her neck. _Her_ hands. Strong hands. Resistance drummed in her fingers. She wouldn't make this easy; he would be disappointed if she did. He grinned and tugged the girl tighter. Closer.

Suddenly, all Klaus saw were lights, a whir of color, and sky. Black sky. All he felt was air. That is, until his ribs crashed against the street and shot heat splinters into his lungs.

A foot rested on his stomach— _her_ foot, the girl's. It squashed him to the ground like a push pin and made it difficult to breathe. Who was this tempestuous little thing?

"That was _rude_!" she sneered down at him, her hands on her hips, "I hope you don't treat all of your guests that way."

"Caroline?" Klaus gasped.

He looked up.

So much for oxygen. The sight of Caroline's radiance hovering above him, haughty and patronizing though she was, blazed his heart, leaving him breathless. Was he dreaming? If so, he hoped that no one pinched him awake. Ever.

Irritated, she gesticulated at the air, whipping her hair behind her shoulders. "And you wonder why no one bothers to visit."

Klaus positioned himself onto his elbows.

"Sorry, love," he said as he regained his feet, "Had I known it was you, I would've been more courteous. Asked before I took a bite, that sort of thing."

Turning, Caroline huffed as she removed a pink handbag from the driver's seat and slung it over her left shoulder, closing the door behind her. She clicked power-lock before shoving the keys inside of it and maneuvering to the side walk.

Klaus followed her. A jounce characterized his step as he assumed a place beside her, his arms tucked behind his back. Laidback. Carefree. No need to rush.

They strolled away. No plans. No direction. The perfect excuse to lose themselves in the splendor of the city…and in each other.

At least, Klaus was lost in _her_. Entirely—completely. But wasn't he always?

It was her cheerful beauty, the way a smile painted rosiness into those alabaster cheeks and sent rainbow chills down his spine, the way her blue eyes scrutinized the tinted windows of his soul, peering through them like clear glass. It was her sassy tongue, how she punctured with a compassionate honesty that made him tremble with a fury that all too quickly evaporated, exchanging places with a feverish passion that never abated. It was the force of her open heart—open, wide open. It enslaved him; it compelled him to his knees, begging—beseeching—that he be allowed to cherish just a small fraction of it. A cranky word, a trivial moment, a shallow breath…he'd revere them all. Every single one.

With that, Klaus kissed his Caroline wish with the strength of infinity, with the power of eternity. He'd be lost in her…forever.

"You know, for a paranoid freak you sure sleep like a baby," Caroline said as they passed the Old Opera House, "I played New Orleans a lullaby and a half of honks before your snoring ass rolled out of bed."

"What makes you think I snore?" Klaus mused. "To know something like that suggests…what?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin pensively. "What word am I looking for here?"

"Ears?" Caroline replied sarcastically.

"No." He shook his head. "That's not it."

Stopping in front of a quaint French café, she rolled her eyes and muttered, "You'd have to be deaf or earless not to hear it."

Klaus held out a chair at one of the outdoor tables, indicating that she sit down first.

"Intimacy!" he exclaimed as he pushed her under the table. "Ah, yes—that's the word I wanted. Knowing I snore suggests a certain…" He sat down across from her, pausing to wag an eyebrow suggestively, "… _intimacy_ between us. Wouldn't you agree?"

While he knew this probably wasn't the time to tease her about their "history"—recently flipped humanity switch and dead mother and all—Klaus found the opportunity impossible to resist. Why? He was selfish. He loved watching Caroline squirm, conflicted.

Was it wrong that he hoped for another moment full of her light? Another day when she refused to cover their connection with hostility and revulsion? Probably. Would he do it anyways? Yes.

Blushing, Caroline fidgeted in her seat. After a moment, she recovered.

"Poor Rebekah," she said with a smile, "I'm surprised she survived so many centuries without earplugs."

Klaus shrugged. "Modern technologies have done little to improve her sleeping habits."

"Meaning…?"

"She curls herself tight—into a ball," he explained, demonstrating by lifting his knees to his chest, "and then claps her hands over either ear, blocking out the howls of the night."

Caroline struggled to repress a snort. "Please tell me you're joking."

"It's true." A momentary softness overtook Klaus as he thought about his sister. He became distant, reflective. "She's slept that way since we were children."

It wasn't dark out anymore. New Orleans began to awaken from its humming nightly hibernation, populating the sidewalks with the smell of delicious cuisine, the sound of tuning guitars, the taste of mimosas, and the crowded decadence of artists, tourists, and locals. Animated and active, the city never rested. And neither did their two voices.

Golden flecks of sunshine streamed across Caroline's face as she laughed, bathing her in a lightheartedness that only a new morning could bring. She seemed free here. Contented. Or perhaps that was just the illusion Klaus desperately hoped was reality?

He leaned forward across the table. "What are you doing here?" he asked, gesturing around with a wave.

It was a loaded question, sure—but one that required an answer.

Caroline's eyes flickered beneath coy eyelashes. "Beignets," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, "I was hungry for them."

She took a sip of her French vanilla latte and gazed at him. "Can you think of a better place?"

Klaus smiled weakly. "There isn't one."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day together. Chatting. Teasing. Exploring.

They ambled along the riverwalk, Caroline demanding they stop to "dip their toes in the Gulf"; and when he called her idea asinine, she responded by tackling him into the water. Soaking them in ocean and sand. Afterwards, he compelled them new clothes from a stylish shop his family frequented.

Next, she dragged him through the French Market. He waited—impatiently he might add—for her to procure souvenirs for her Mystic Falls friends. (Not that they deserved them.) He tolerated her indecision well enough, only remarking that she "bloody choose already." That is, until she droned on and on about a hand-crafted drum some guy named Enzo might like. A Friend? A lover? Must she torture him with such vagueness?

There was no need to visit museums. Art breathed, colored, and boomed the world around them, and Klaus knew all the best spots. Secret spots. They nibbled exquisite food (the more beignets the better); they drank one too many Hurricanes; they joined in parades, danced and swayed to melancholy jazz, and argued over architectural preferences.

It was a good day. A full day. But for Klaus, it ended too soon.

The sunset painted the city in thick strokes of pink and orange as they arrived back at her car. Caroline leaned against the driver seat door, yawning. After stretching her arms above her head, she extracted her car keys from within her handbag.

Klaus frowned. He knew better; he expected this, but still—disappointment gripped at his heart, crumbling it into an ash more crippling than that from any White Oak stake.

"Where are you driving next, love?" he asked.

His attempt to sound unaffected felt hollow. Weak.

Caroline cocked her head to the side and considered him. Pointedly.

"The car is in park, Klaus," she said, patting the windshield with her hand.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. _So it was_.

Sauntering over to him, eyes azure and austere, Caroline raised his left hand. She traced a line across his knuckles with her thumb before turning it over and exposing his palm. In it, she dropped the car keys.

"I don't need to drive anywhere," she said, her eyes sparkling and vibrant, "I've arrived."


End file.
